A Naughty Neighbourly AgreementPrologue

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Prologue - A married man gets an offer he can't refuse from his attractive married 33yo neighbour (I use english spellings and words by the way... arse, bottom, bum etc). Well, he could have refused the offer, probably ought to have done really, but would you?...

Checking my watch, I approached my neighbour's front door with a sense of unreality and the first stirrings of a hard-on. 2.15pm. I had decided to be on time, nothing more, nothing less. I was a 35-year old, happily married man (whatever 'happily' means) with two children and thinking 'I really ought not to be doing this'. My neighbour, for her part, was a 33-year old 'happily married' woman, and whilst she maybe ought not to be doing this either, her reason for doing so was better than mine. I completed my nervous traverse of the street: a short, simple walk from my house to hers, but a huge moral line to cross.

"Hi," Alison said, opening the door to me soon after I knocked. So, it wasn't a dream. Indeed I was expected.

"Hi," I replied.

I observed that she was wearing a very plain, dark brown t-shirt and blue denim jeans. I didn't really know what I expected her to be wearing for this highly unusual 'appointment'. One thing I did expect was that she'd be as attractive and alluring as ever, and that my cock would ache to be shoved up what I was so far only guessing to be an all-natural hairy cunt.

"You're on time. That's cool. Come in." She talked rather briskly, and seemed as uncertain as me as to what to say exactly.

"Well, yeah. I am, I guess. 'Mr reliable'." I laughed lightly at my own joke. She merely smiled, and I think I detected nerves.

Apart from the obvious things — a good 5ft 7 height in a woman, perfect curves which were neither too bumpy nor too lacking, and a very pretty face for a woman her age, damnit any age — I found it was the subtle things that drove me crazy about her. I loved her deep brown eyes, which possessed confidence but vulnerability too, and always seemed ever so slightly tired in a sexual way. Her fair hair was parted slightly off centre, quite thin and settling in loose ends, freely around her shoulders. Simple and pretty, like a little girl really, which kind of contrasted against her demureness of age.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, sounding quite natural now, as though this was any kind of innocent social event. I sensed, however, that she had to check herself from tagging 'first' or 'before we start' onto the end of that, which would have been comically awkard and embarrassing for both of us.

"Sure, that's a good idea." Well, I suppose it was. There was no rule book for this type of thing.

"Well, there's no rush is there?" she said. I tried to avoid a boyish, purile grin breaking across my face and just about succeeded. It was important to be mature about this.

"No, I don't suppose there is." I followed her into her home, unable to help myself casting one little guilty glance over my shoulder at the houses on our street: a pleasant, middle-England neghbourhood. Most people would certainly not approve.

The 'Agreement', as I had come to call it, was a totally new thing to both of us, as I guess it would be to 99% of people. Well, it's not every day that your sexy neighbour asks you to make a baby with her.